


something great together

by imagines



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Shower Sex, They love each other so much, and im crying about it again, but it’s bc they love each other, i can’t draw but i want to play too, pre-kerberos, shower shiro, slightly angsty ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 20:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14941295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imagines/pseuds/imagines
Summary: The trip to the shack had been Shiro’s idea, to give them some time alone. Shiro has visited the shack before, and none of this should be new to Keith: Shiro waking up slowly, taller than the slumped and dusty sofa is long, his feet dangling over one armrest…Shiro frowning at the gas stove as he tries to coax it into boiling a kettle…Shiro leaning on the railing as dawn eases itself over the earth. Shiro, easily fitting himself into Keith’s house and life and heart, as if all these spaces had been waiting for him to show up and step inside.[a.k.a. the one where they get off together for the first time and it’s in the shower at the desert shack]





	something great together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [otasucc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/otasucc/gifts).



> Kihyun Ryu did that, he really...did that. Anyway here's my contribution to this blessed new genre!

The trip to the shack had been Shiro’s idea, to give them some time alone. Shiro has visited the shack before, and none of this should be new to Keith: Shiro waking up slowly, taller than the slumped and dusty sofa is long, his feet dangling over one armrest…Shiro frowning at the gas stove as he tries to coax it into boiling a kettle…Shiro leaning on the railing as dawn eases itself over the earth. Shiro, easily fitting himself into Keith’s house and life and heart, as if all these spaces had been waiting for him to show up and step inside.

But it’s the first time Shiro has come here since they named the feeling passing between them—it’s only been a month since they gave voice to the subtle thing that had built and built into a quiet crescendo of pounding hearts, shared breaths, and silent fireworks bursting in colors Keith had never before imagined. So it is new anyway, in an achingly bright way that leaves Keith staring at the worn wooden floorboards, because looking directly at Shiro right now would set Keith alight.

“How about a hike?” Shiro suggests, and Keith breathes easier; perhaps a nice long morning walk will let him get his thoughts in order.

They’ve taken a dozen of these hikes before, exploring canyons and caverns, but something feels different here as well.  _Boyfriend. My boyfriend Shiro_ , Keith thinks, following Shiro along a narrow, sandy path through a slot canyon. The word sounds strange; even stranger, the idea that  _he_  is also  _Shiro’s_  boyfriend now.

Keith trails his fingers along the wall, which curves in countless unpredictable variations, like the shapes of shoulderblades and hipbones. A slender ribbon of sky curls and twists above them, growing brighter as the planet turns to face the sun. The last time they traveled this route together, Keith had been lost in wishes that he’d never expected would come true. Keith has not been, historically, someone who gets things he wants. But here he is: wanting Shiro, and wanted by him too.

They don’t talk much, focused on keeping their footing, spare attention given to the weird and beautiful landscape surrounding them. Full daylight brings heat and hunger, and they make their way back home, Shiro having offered to make pancakes.

Inside the front door, Shiro shrugs off his pack and stretches, sighing. “I’m gonna hit the shower. Wanna come?”

“What, like—” Keith swallows hard. Okay, yeah, they’ve already done more than kiss; the mutual admission had opened a floodgate and they’d found themselves frantic for each other. Still… “Together?”

“Sure. Why not?”

They’re both covered in a layer of pale red dust, with sand halfway up their calves and sweaty shirts sticking to their skin. It seems uncomfortably intimate to Keith to cleanse himself of the morning’s grit and grime in sight of another person. Then he pictures Shiro standing before him, shameless in the sunlight and drenched in the cold spray of the shower out back. And he has his answer. “Okay. Let’s go.”

*

Shiro strips down to black boxer briefs, and Keith copies him, because there’s not much more than a tarp hung up around the shower. People don’t usually come out this far, but Keith still tries not to be naked outdoors at eleven in the morning, just in case.

They head out, the screen door slamming behind them, and walk around the corner of the house. Keith doesn’t know where to turn his gaze. It’s not like they haven’t showered at the gym together, but that’s different; it’s semi-public, and out of courtesy, Keith has always tried  _not_ to look at Shiro. Yet again, things have changed.

Shiro ducks under the ancient showerhead, eyes closed, slicking back his hair; tiny waterfalls cascade off his shoulders and down his ribcage. In seconds his underwear is soaked through, and Keith can see—everything. He takes what he hopes is a very quiet deep breath, but Shiro hears anyway. Being Shiro—and therefore being a little shit sometimes despite all his records and badges and trophies—he has to comment on it. “See something you like?”

Keith feels himself turning red from his ears to his chest, and he thinks he can try to blame it on the ice-cold shower. He also thinks there’s no  _point_  in trying. “Maybe.”

“Better come and get it, then.”

How can Shiro stay so calm? For a split second, Keith considers fleeing into the desert and never coming back, but Shiro’s grin holds him still.

“Keith,” Shiro says, and he reaches out to touch Keith’s shoulder, rubbing his thumb along Keith’s collarbone, taking pity. “It’s okay. You can look if you want to.”

Keith works up every last one of his frazzled nerves, and he looks. He starts at Shiro’s feet and works his way past calves and thighs the Greek gods themselves probably dreamed of, bravely lingering at the black underwear that cling to the shape of him, wandering up the line of dark hair to Shiro’s belly, to the rise and fall of Shiro’s chest, the powerful column of his neck, his smile, his eyes—

One breath more and Keith finds himself getting the living daylights kissed out of him, Shiro’s huge palms curled around his hips. Shiro pulls only gently, but Keith was already looking for a reason to press up against him. The jolt of Shiro’s cock against his makes Keith gasp; it’s  _so much_ , and he presses his open mouth to Shiro’s shoulder, meaning to kiss but losing himself and biting down sharply instead.

Shiro growls and grips Keith’s hips, keeping Keith in place for Shiro to grind against him. The effect he’s having on Shiro gives Keith a scrap of courage, and he runs his hands down Shiro’s back and cups Shiro’s ass; pulls Shiro harder against him, too.

Keith doesn’t want to stop, knows he isn’t going to, and there’s no controlling his breathing anymore. “Shiro, oh, oh fuck, can I—”

“Yes, baby, let me see you,” Shiro rasps, and Keith lets himself come apart in Shiro’s arms, out here with his toes digging into cold wet concrete and a faded green tarp for a backdrop.

Distantly, he registers Shiro burying his face in Keith’s shoulder and groaning, so he figures at least they’re even. They both catch their breath for a few moments, and then Keith looks up at Shiro again. It’s not so nerve-wracking this time. “That’s not what a cold shower is supposed to do.”

Shiro sputters laughter, wiping water out of his eyes and reaching to shut off the shower. “Since when do  _you_  ever do what you’re supposed to do?”

“I will not stand for this personal attack.” Keith turns on his heel so he can stalk into the house. The effect is somewhat diminished by the fact that he’s dripping water all over the floor and has to wrap himself in a big towel as soon as he gets inside, but he makes it work the best he can. “Also, I believe I was promised pancakes,” he says, when Shiro follows him in.

“So you were. And I always keep my promises.”

Keith thinks of the KERBEROS MISSION posters hung up all over campus; of the letter on thick, cream-colored Garrison letterhead naming Shiro as pilot. And sometimes he could swear Shiro’s got secret psychic powers, for as Keith’s throat tightens and his eyes begin to sting in a way that’s all too familiar when this subject comes to mind, Shiro pulls Keith into his arms and kisses his forehead.

“I’ll always be here for you, Keith. I’ll always come back to you. We’re going to be something great together, baby, I know it.”

_Always_ —one more thing that’s new for Keith, but he thinks he might love it.

**Author's Note:**

> Who's alive after season 6?? NOT ME. OHMYGOD.


End file.
